


Apogee (1/3)

by randomalia (spilinski)



Series: Apogee [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Jedi, Jedi Code, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4223847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilinski/pseuds/randomalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Jedi shall not know love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apogee (1/3)

**Author's Note:**

> Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan. George Lucas once confirmed that Jedi are not celibate, but attachments are forbidden. There are other parts but this one works as a standalone.

The sheets are catching and bunching under his knees every time Qui-Gon rocks their bodies together. He tries not to reach out for the Force, tries to keep his mental distance from his Master, instead turning his focus onto the physical. Feels the fullness as Qui-Gon surges into him. Notices the tremor in his own arms as he holds himself upright. The burning, burning heat wherever their skin meets. The panting and tiny broken sounds that reach his ears. Such pleasure, such lonely pleasure.

Then they are falling, falling down, Obi-Wan's arms giving out, a wonderful weight relaxing into his back.

In a few moments they will rearrange themselves, disconnecting and distancing, shifting to lie beside one another. Their bodies, in these rare few moments of being ungoverned, will respond naturally rather than sensibly, and curl in to each other. Qui-Gon will touch Obi-Wan's face, smooth a warm hand along his side, making sure his Padawan is well and safe and satisfied. No more, perhaps, than he would do for any other bed partner.

They will settle for sleep with eyes carefully averted, and Obi-Wan will try to breathe around the hot simple yearning to lean forward and touch his mouth to Qui-Gon's. A soft press, a grateful kiss. He wishes he could say something, let an endearment slip out and have it welcomed between them, gentle and ordinary.

In the morning he will wake alone, and will rise only to kneel and meditate. He will remind himself that these things are not his to keep, will grapple with his own jealous hoarding of these deepest, strongest feelings. These bright and wanting things that are better given away than hidden in dark places.

The Code is the tool he reaches for, steady and heavy and secure. _A Jedi shall not know love._

He realises, now, the careful crafting in the words that escaped him as a child. Shall not.

Perhaps those that made it knew they would be creating a lie in writing 'will not.'


End file.
